Splash
by Balek
Summary: At the end of a rescue, John falls into a lake and almost drowns, but is rescued by Gordon at the last minute. And now, International rescue must cope with two operatives down, and the challenges that their recoveries will bring.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, people of the internet! After spending many a day and night reading a lot of Thunderbirds fanfic (meh, who needs sleep anyway?) I was inspired to write my own. This idea came to me at about 3 in the morning, so I apologise if it's bad!**

**Disclaimer: The lovely Thunderbirds belong to Gerry and Silvia Anderson. I'm just having a play around with them. I promise I'll give them back eventually!**

* * *

All considering, he probably should be panicking. Or at least slightly worried. But, as his paralysed body continued to sink deeper into the cold depths, John Tracy found himself surprisingly calm. He knew this was wrong, yet at the same time, perfectly right.

Feeling the cold seeping into his body, he watched as the surface got further and further away, accepting that he would never break it ever again.

His mind was getting fuzzy now, as if wrapped in a warm blanket, and a sudden wave of tiredness hit him. Yes, sleep, that was what he needed, that was probably the best idea.

_Dad..._ One last thought flitted through his mind as everything faded into darkness, barely registering the hand that grabbed him as he gratefully released his grip on consciousness.

* * *

He jolted back to awareness thanks to a bone-jarring thump between his shoulder blades, causing his whole body to convulse painfully, and before he knew it he found himself miserably spewing up foul-tasting water over everything in front of him.

A strong hand rubbed his back and a familiar voice soothed and encouraged as he continued to hurl. "That's it Johnny, that's it." His still foggy mind was confused, he knew that voice, so why couldn't he place it?

A shrill beeping echoed in his ears and the hand stopped rubbing, leaving his back momentarily. "I said not now, I'm busy." He heard the voice say before the hand returned, as he finally coughed up the last contents of his stomach, leaving him gasping painfully and his head swimming.

"That's better, well done! Here...Deep breaths, Johnny, deep breaths." The voice continued cheerfully. John heard shuffling and a mask was gently placed over his face, and he gratefully breathed in the cool flow of air coming from it.

As his fog in his head cleared and his breathing relaxed, he realised three things. One – He was lying in the recovery position on a grassy bank. Two – Everything _really_ hurt. And three – He finally knew who the voice belonged to.

"Gords...?" He croaked hoarsely, surprised at the effort even a small word took. He opened his eyes, struggling to focus as a face swam into view, wet red hair sticking down across his forehead.

"In the flesh." A grin spread across his younger brother's face, who removed the mask, shifting to kneel in front of John. "Good to see you again."

"Hurts..."

"No doubt. You must have coughed up at least half the lake."

"Great..." John groaned as another part of his body spiked with pain. So far he had noted a busted jaw, split lip and sore ribs. "What...?"

"...Happened? You don't remember?" Gordon raised an eyebrow, his eyes full of concern.

"No..." John replied, racking his brains to try and remember something, anything about what had happened. He was in his uniform, so therefore they were on a rescue, so how on Earth did he end up battered and bruised next to a lakeside in the middle of a forest?

Gordon studied his older brother for a moment. Memory loss wasn't a good sign. "Well, let start from the beginning then." He said, settling down to fill John in on the details. They had been called out to a forest fire. The fire itself was was easy enough to get under control but some hikers, having got themselves trapped by a lake, had been in need of their help. He and John had been in the rescue platform, wrestling with the last casualty who was having a full blown panic attack. The rest of the party were already safely inside Thunderbird 2, which was being piloted by Virgil. John was trying to restrain the man whilst Gordon tried to sedate him, but the man was strongly built and John found it tough to keep him still on the wildly rocking platform. Just as Gordon had managed to slam the hypo-spray into the man's neck, he lashed out, hitting John squarely in the jaw, stunning him and throwing him off balance. The sudden movement had caused the platform to tip sideways, and before he could grab anything, John found himself tumbling out and back down to earth. Fuelled with anger at the man who had just injured his brother, Gordon pumped him with enough sedative to knock out an elephant, before turning and diving off the platform, following his blond-haired sibling into the cold waters of the lake below.

"You know, it was a good job we weren't too far up. Although judging by the size of the splash you made, I doubt you'll be able to move for at least a few days. I know I won't be able to." He absent-mindedly rubbed his lower back. "I was still wearing my breathing kit, and that doesn't make it easy to dive correctly... John?" At his last sentence, Gordon had noticed that the colour had completely drained out of his brother's already pale face.

"...Your back...? Aw...Gords...no...I'm sorry..." John croaked, his blue eyes wide with fear. He knew Gordon's back was delicate since his accident, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he was the cause of damaging it again.

"John, John, it's nothing some rest and some muscle rub won't fix. Trust me, it's not your fault." Gordon grinned reassuringly. "But when we're both up for it, you're having some diving lessons. I can see the style working, but the execution could use some practise! Plus, we need to think of a name for that move. I was thinking 'The Tracy Kabloogle.'"

John couldn't help but start laughing at the suggestion, instantly regretting it as his lungs protested and he launched into coughing fit. Rolling his eyes, Gordon shoved the mask back onto John's face, activating the air flow again, rubbing his brother's back with his free hand.

After a while, John's breathing came back under control, and Gordon breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't remove the mask this time. It was probably in John's best interest to keep it on for the time being.

"Aw, c'mon John, I've only just got you breathing again, don't go ruining it!" He quipped cheekily, before letting out another sigh as his watch once again emitted a shrill beeping sound. "Do you reckon I'll get away with not answering three times in a row?"

"Possibly not..." John replied quietly, his voice muffled. If he had got Gordon worried, he'd hate to think how Dad was holding up. Or Scott, for that matter. In fact, he was surprised a blue rocket wasn't already hovering around somewhere.

"Shame these things are waterproof, eh?" Gordon said, moving to press the button to activate his watch without removing the mask. Lifting his wrist to eye level, he steeled himself for the expected onslaught as soon as it burst into life.

"Ok, Dad." He cut in as soon as his father's face appeared on the small screen. "Look-"

"GORDON! How is he? Did you get him? Is he hurt? Is he awake? What-?" His father babbled, worry evident on his face.

"Da- Dad. Dad. DAD!" Gordon finally managed to stop his father mid-question. Not saying a word he twisted his arm so Jeff could clearly see John, mask and all, lying on his side, who waved back weakly, before bringing it back to face him. "See, he's fine. Sore, bruised, thrown up half a lake, but fine."

"Thank God!" Jeff let out an explosive breath that he didn't realise he was holding. Sometimes he hated being stuck at base. "Right, Scott's found a clearing about a mile away, he's currently crashing his way through the forest towards you. Virgil insisted on dropping off the walkers first, but he's on his way back. Once he's landed and found you, both he and Scott can help with the med-evac."

"What? No, no, that'll take too long. Just get Virge to send the platform down. We're both soaked to the skin, plus John almost drowned. The sooner we're warm and dry in the med-bay, the better. That water was cold." Seeing that his father was about to protest, he continued. "Look, I still had my breathing pack, so we've got O2, and Scott can help me move him carefully. We'll cope, I promise."

Jeff's lips tightened and he looked away from the screen. On one hand, Gordon had a point. John was looking deathly pale and was starting to shiver, and he could potentially get worse if he had to wait too long. Yet, on the other, John had not only been sucker punched right in the jaw, he had also fallen at least 30 feet before landing almost flat on the water, and Jeff knew that the impact would be similar to falling that distance onto concrete. He thanked his lucky stars that the platform hadn't risen too high, but he knew the distance could still have caused serious injuries, some that may not as yet be blindingly obvious.

Sighing, Jeff massaged his temples, before coming to a decision. "Ok, I'll get Virgil to send the plat. But if anything goes wrong, even if it's minor, you call it in immediately. That is an order. Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Ok, Both Scott and Virgil should be arriving on scene any minute. As soon as you're aboard you're coming straight home, Brains has the infirmary all ready for your arrival, and you are to take John there as soon you've landed. I'll see you there. Base o-""

"...Dad..." Jeff's reluctant signing off was interrupted by a croaky voice calling out to him, and Gordon looked in surprise at his older brother. Surely he didn't feel like doing anything at the moment, let alone talk to their father. But judging by the look on the Space Monitor's face, he did.

"Hold on." Lifting the mask away and placing it next to John, Gordon carefully took a hold of his brother's wrist, his cold fingers fumbling with the strap. Carefully removing the watch, which seemed no worse for wear after the dip, unlike it's owner, Gordon keyed in the sequence to transfer the call from his timepiece, grinning as his father's face appeared with no problem, before holding it in front of John's face. Jeff couldn't help but gasp as he got a better look at his son, a large bruise forming up the side of his face, and coupled with a split lip that was still oozing, he did look a terrible sight.

"Son?" Jeff asked, his voice wavering sightly. He was trying desperately to keep it together, in fact he had been ever since the panicked shout from Scott, but now seeing his bruised and battered son alive and breathing, his emotions were threatening to overwhelm him.

"Dad...What about...Five..." John's voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper, and Jeff's heart broke at seeing the effort it was taking just to say a few words, but he couldn't help but smile at his son's first concern being the space station, it was his pride and joy after all.

"Oh John, don't worry about Five. Alan is perfectly capable to stay a a bit longer up there, and we can always stick it on auto and bring him back down if need be."

John groaned and closed his eyes at his father's words. He knew he was in no fit state to be blasting off into space for at least a few weeks, but knowing that he had to leave his beloved craft in the clumsy hands of his youngest brother for longer than intended didn't exactly fill him with joy.

Taking John's reaction to be of one of pain, Jeff took one last look at his bruised son, wanting to hold him right at that very moment, to run his hands through the pale blond hair of the child he so nearly lost just moments before. But he knew it wouldn't be much longer until he could do just that, and nobody was going to stop him running down to the silos even before Two had cut her engines. "Well, see you soon son. Gordon?"

"Yes?" Gordon asked, lifting the watch so his father could see him.

"Don't forget about yourself. Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

"Ok then, base out." And with that, John's watch went back to displaying the time, hiding the marvellous technology that hid beyond the face. In the sudden silence, the sound of someone crashing through the forest around them could be heard getting closer.

"Well then," Gordon said cheekily, carefully replacing the watch on John's wrist. "Are you ready to be smothered?"

John groaned once again. He, like all four of his brothers, hated being smothered, but it didn't stop them doing it to each other when any of them were hurt. But the four youngest agreed on one thing, Scott was most definitely the worst out of all of them.

Gordon patted his brother's shoulder in sympathy before picking up and replacing the mask again. He himself had plenty of experience when it came to Scott in his mother hen mode. In fact, it was only the timely intervention of John and Virgil bodily dragging Scott away that had stopped Gordon from putting another Tracy in the hospital. But he had to admit, it did however encourage him to get his legs working again, if only to run as far away as possible at the first opportunity.

"JOHN!" With a final crash through the foliage, narrowly ducking a low branch, Scott, his arms covered in scratches from his mad dash, stumbled onto the rocky beach, his heart skipping a beat at the prone form lying close to the water being attended to my his red-headed brother. Practically tripping over his feet in his haste, he skidded to a halt at John's side, automatically taking the oxygen mask from his younger brother, who scooted backwards out the way, knowing better than to resist.

Like his father before him, Scott had to reign in his emotions at the sight of his brother. His eyes immediately latching onto John's chest, which was rising and falling steadily and he visibly relaxed. Ever since he had seen John's limp body fall from the platform before hitting the water, closely followed by Gordon diving in, Scott couldn't stop the dark thoughts, and they had haunted him throughout his hurried landing and subsequent run through the forest. But as John's eyes slowly opened and slowly focused on Scott, all of the Field Commander's worst fears dissipated and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey John." He said softly, using his free hand to gently shift his brother's wet hair from off of his forehead.

"...Hey..." John winced as his split lip twanged in protest, but considering that even breathing hurt at the moment, a split lip was nothing in comparison.

"How are you feeling?"

John groaned once again in reply, his eyelids slowly sliding shut. What he wouldn't do for some high strength painkillers right now.

"Oi, John, look at me! You know the drill, no sleeping on the job." Scott commanded, smiling as John reluctantly peeled back his eyelids to look at him again. "That bad huh?"

Scott definitely didn't need an answer for that question, the look he received spoke volumes. He shrugged off his backpack that contained the medi-kit from Thunderbird 1, handing it to Gordon, who's face lit up when he realised what it was. He opened it up, digging out two packages the size of a pack of cards, which when unfolded, were emergency thermal blankets, just what both he and John needed while they waited for the green workhorse that was Thunderbird 2 to arrive. Chucking one package at Scott, he unfolded and draped his around his shoulders before resuming his dig around in the backpack.

"God, John. I must have aged at least 10 years. Seriously. I'm sure I've gone grey." Scott joked as he unfolded and wrapped John in the blanket. "Next time leave the swimming to the family goldfish, eh?" He continued, waving a hand in Gordon's direction, just as his watch started vibrating and beeping. Bringing his arm back in, he activated the watch and was greeted by the sight of his remaining earth-bound brother.

"About time. Where the hell have you been?" He asked, forgoing protocol. It shouldn't have taken as long as it did for Virgil to drop off the casualties, the rendezvous point wasn't that far away.

"Sorry Scott. It took a bit longer than I thought to get a particular comatose hiker out of my bird. Man, how much did Gords inject him with?"

"Erm, it may have been the whole thing all at once." Gordon replied, loud enough for Virgil to hear it, who let out a long whistle.

"Damn, no wonder he was completely out. Anyway, I'm coming up on your position, you can probably hear me."

Turning his head, Scott listened for a moment. Virgil was right, he could hear a distinctive faint whine in the distance.

"Indeed I can. Has Dad given you the run-down?"

"Yep. Drop plat, let you get John on, raise plat, set auto-pilot, get John comfortable, head home, make a bee-line for the infirmary and drag you away when John decides he wants to strangle you."

Both Gordon and John let out a small chuckle at the last bit, the latter unfortunate enough to have it turn into a cough, groaning again as pain shot around his ribcage, weakly waving away Scott who started to fuss over him.

At seeing his two older brothers, Virgil couldn't help but smile. Scott was most definitely in full-on smothering mode. Manipulating the controls around him, he reduced his speed and prepared the rescue platform to drop. "Right Scott, See you in a minute. Thunderbird 2 out."

"FAB Virge." Scott muttered, not entirely impressed with his comment about dragging him away. He was not a mother hen, he just cared about his little brothers, that was all. And anyway, surely Dad was worse than him.

"Right then, let's get this show on the road." Gordon announced. Scott lifted his head to look at the red-head, noticing he had pulled out a pack of mild painkillers from the backpack. Frowning, Scott shook his head, surely his brother would realise John needed something stronger.

Gordon looked at his eldest brother for a second, not quite understanding what he was getting at. Looking down at the box he held, realisation dawned. Holding up a finger to signal to wait, the aquanaut popped out a couple of tablets, throwing them into his mouth and dry-swallowing them as quickly as possible, before grabbing a hypo-spray that contained a strong painkiller out of the bag and throwing it to Scott.

"Gords?" Scott asked, concern in his voice as he expertly caught the flying object with one hand.

"It's nothing Scott." Gordon replied. The last thing he needed was mother hen to start clucking over him as well.

"What is it? Is it your back?"

"Yeah. It's hard to dive whilst wearing a pack. But, as I said to Space Man here, it's nothing some rest and muscle rub won't fix."

Scott didn't look convinced, but before he could say anything the whine overhead became a roar as the green hulk of Thunderbird 2 came into view above the trees. Deciding that he would sort out Gordon later, he twisted the dosage dial on the hypo-spray in his hands, gently placing it on the side of his brother's neck, avoiding the livid bruise that was rapidly spreading.

"Ready?" He mouthed. The engines above him were too loud to for him to be heard.

John gave the barest of nods, steeling himself for what was coming next. Hypo-sprays weren't the most pain-free things at the best of time, but as they were quick and convenient, he could cope if it meant he had some long-term relief.

Checking the dosage one final time, Scott took at deep breath and pushed the plunger, feeling a pang of guilt as John jerked beneath him and screwed up his eyes. Even though he couldn't hear anything over the roar of the engines above him, he knew that John would be muttering curses fluently in multiple languages.

Gordon, having finally repacked the medi-kit, had slowly shifted to kneel next his brothers. Taking the used hypo-spray that was held out to him, he popped it back into the bag, before looking to Scott for the unspoken signal he knew was coming. On his nod, Gordon placed his hands on his blond brother's leg, and together with Scott, who removed the oxygen mask so he had both hands free, they carefully rolled John onto his back, keeping a careful eye out for any signs of him bringing up any more water that may be left inside him.

Having got John onto his back without incident, they both looked up at the aircraft above them, smiling at each other in relief as they saw the rescue platform descending towards them. As it brushed past the top-most branches they both looked at their brother, who grinned back at their concerned faces, the painkillers having well and truly kicked in. Shrugging their shoulders at each other, Scott pointed at the platform that was just about to touch down next to them, and Gordon nodded in understanding.

Taking a hold of John's legs as Scott grabbed him under the armpits, they carefully lifted him up off the ground, Gordon gritting his teeth as his back twanged. Despite the strong painkillers in his veins, John still hissed in pain as he was carried towards the platform which he had only recently exited. But this time, there was no chance he was going anywhere apart from into the Thunderbird currently hovering above the trees.

After what felt like an age, but in fact was only a few moments, John was carefully placed onto the cold metal floor of the platform, his head on Gordon's lap, who had sat on the floor with him, making it look like he was supporting his brother but his pale face was hinting otherwise. Scott walked out of the platform, and picked up the medi-kit and Gordon's oxygen pack, sending a signal to his brother in the pilot's seat that they were ready to go.

With a jolt, the platform started ascending upwards. Scott watched them go with a heavy heart. He wanted to be there with them, they were both in a bad way, even if Gordon wasn't admitting it yet, but Scott knew that he had to get Thunderbird 1 home as well. Well, at least in the faster craft he would probably be home before the others. Watching the platform until it passed into the belly of the green hulk, he turned to re-trace his steps through the forest, albeit at a slightly slower pace.

Back in the platform, the sudden silence as the doors shut left both John and Gordon's ears ringing. As the platform slowed to a halt, a chestnut-haired head popped over the railing, taking in the glad sight of the two faces looking straight back with wide grins, one of which was more drug-induced than anything.

"Ah, so you made it this time, did you?" Virgil joked, quickly assessing his brothers as he moved to open the gate, a hover stretcher at his side. John looked a right state as expected, but the painkilling shot Scott gave him seemed to be doing the job, and Gordon looked paler than normal, but that may have just been the whole situation catching up with him, he had just saved his brother's life after all.

"Yeah! Johnny boy decided to forgo the swim this time." Gordon joked back, his usual cheekiness not dampened by the increasing niggle that was forming in his spine. John rolled his eyes, not bothering to argue, he was feeling too out of it for that.

"Come on then, let's get you two settled in for the trip home." Virgil placed the stretcher on the floor as close as possible to his blond brother. "Gords? You up for one more lift?"

Gordon arched his back experimentally, grimacing as it clicked softly. "Yeah, I think so. Let's do it."

Taking a hold of John's legs, who was drifting quite happily in his pain-free state, Virgil helped Gordon gently move their brother onto the hover stretcher. Once John was safely secured, Virgil activated the stretcher and it slowly rose to waist height. Standing up, Virgil started to move towards the med-bay, before he realised Gordon was still sitting on the floor of the platform, a sheepish look on his face.

"Erm, could I have a hand?" He asked, his face turning the same shade as his hair in embarrassment. Here he was, young, fit and agile, yet unable to get up off the floor.

Unable to hide the amusement in his face, Virgil bent down and swiftly hauled the aquanaut to his feet, allowing him to lean on his shoulder as they moved the stretcher towards the med-bay. Even though Gordon had insisted to Scott he was fine, now that the adrenaline was leaving his system, he could tell he'd pulled a few muscles.

"You alright?" The medic asked, concerned but still finding the whole situation quite funny. Having noticed his brother's grimace, plus his need to be helped to his feet, Virgil realised that his paleness was due to his back. But seeing as he could still walk ok, it couldn't be too serious, but that wouldn't get him out of some prodding and poking later once John had been sorted.

"Nothing major, just pulled it a bit." Gordon admitted. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide anything from their field medic. "A few days off and I'll be right as rain."

"Ok." Virgil trusted his brother on issues relating to his back. He did know every niggle and ache it could throw at him, and if he said it was nothing major, then he was usually right. They had reached the med-bay, the door swishing open as they approached it. Manoeuvring both John and Gordon through the door, Virgil continued. "But prepare yourself for a double-smothering from both Scott and Dad if you're going to be out of action.

"Triple." A hoarse, yet sing-song voice came from the stretcher in front of them, and both of them looked down at John, who was grinning like a mad-man, definitely away with the fairies. "Dad, Scott aaand Virgie!"

Gordon hooted with laughter as Virgil's nostrils flared at the nickname Scott and John had given the middle child when he was a baby. Suddenly, a thoughtful smile came onto the medic's face, and he slotted the stretcher into the bay he had just reached, before moving to retrieve a hypo-spray containing a mild sedative and an oxygen mask from the supplies cupboard. Attaching the oxygen mask to John's face, he placed the hypo-spray onto John's neck, injecting just enough sedative to knock him out for the duration, not surprised at all when he didn't seem to feel it.

"There we go. Now, while you're taking a nap, I can sort Gords out. So when you wake up, you'll have all four of us ready to smother you! Isn't that nice, Mr Space Cadet?" Virgil asked, his voice syrupy sweet as he grinned evilly at his older brother.

As his mind went fuzzy once again, John realised what he had got himself into. As sleep finally took hold, he managed to utter a single fluent curse as his eyelids slid shut, much to the amusement of his brothers.

"What was that?" Gordon laughed. It wasn't very often Virgil had the upper hand on his two older brothers, especially John who was usually far away from the rest of them.

"Russian, I think." Virgil replied, inspecting the hypo-spray nonchalantly before placing it down on the cabinet next to him, before hooking up an array of monitors on his sleeping brother. "That should keep him quiet anyhow. Can't have him giving away all my embarrassing baby moments now can I?" Nudging his grinning brother towards the door and towards the cockpit, he grabbed a pack of paracetamol and a bottle of water from the same cupboard, placing them in Gordon's hands. "Come on, let's go home. We've got a couple of flapping hens to sort out!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First things first, THANK YOU everyone for your wonderful reviews. They make me so happy! The original plan had been to leave this story as it was, but you have convinced me to keep writing! So here is it, as requested, Chapter 2! And you'll be glad to know that I have chapter 3 currently rattling around in my head. **

**Now, on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: Thunderbirds property of Gerry and Silvia Anderson. I'll give these guys back once I'm done!**

* * *

Back on Tracy Island, Jeff was pacing endlessly backwards and forwards around the control centre, a half-drunk cup of coffee left forgotten on his desk. Pausing to look out over the balcony to vast ocean beyond for what seemed like the tenth time, he jumped as a buzzer sounded from behind him, indicating an incoming call from one of the Thunderbird craft.

Spinning around he felt a slight tinge of disappointment as he saw which portrait was flashing. He had hoped it was Virgil requesting clearance to land, having somehow persuaded his craft to go even faster than it was already capable. _Pull yourself together Jefferson. Alan's just as worried as you are. _He mentally scolded himself. Alan needed reassuring. The youngest Tracy may be closest to Gordon, but he and John had a special bond, one that extended to sharing each other's Thunderbirds, something the other three were slightly more unwilling to do, unless in extreme circumstances, so it was only natural he was worried.

Crossing to activate the link, not bothering to sit, the Tracy patriarch turned to the portrait as it switched to a live feed, at the same time running a shaky hand through his hair, trying his best to look a bit more composed than he felt.

"Hey Alan."

"Hey." The young blond mirrored his father's earlier move, his fingers, complete with well-chewed nails, messing up his usually perfect locks. "How are they?"

Jeff smiled encouragingly, resisting the urge to look hopefully out of the window again. "Well, I spoke to both John and Gordon while they were waiting for Virgil to come back. Gordon seemed fine, if slightly pale, but that's to be expected after what he did. John should be ok, a thorough check-up to rule out internal injury, a few days observation, a couple weeks rest and he should be back to normal."

Alan nodded at the good news, but he couldn't stop the anger simmering inside him at the thought of John having unseen major injuries. "Dad?"

Jeff started at the sudden change in tone in his son's voice, a tone that he knew well. Volcano Alan was about to blow, and it wasn't going to be pretty. "Alan?" He asked gently, not wanting to cause a premature eruption. The last thing he needed right now was a full blast of his son's infamous temper.

Alan was breathing heavily through his nose, clenching and unclenching his fists. "That man..." He snarled, his voice harsh and barely recognisable. "You know...the one that...hurt...John?"

Jeff realised what his youngest son was so worked up about. He wanted revenge on the one who hurt his brother. It was well known that Jeff was proud at the fact that his sons had such a close bond, but he knew from times of old, if anyone hurt one of the siblings, the other four wouldn't stop until they had blood, no matter how big or strong the enemy.

"Look, it was an accident. He was having a panic attack and didn't mean to do it. John is alive and in one piece, that is all that matters."

"Dad!" Alan was starting to see red. Nobody hurt his brother and got away with it. Nobody.

"Alan..." Jeff raised his hands, trying to reason with his son high up in orbit.

"John could have been killed! Gordon too! And you're just going to let him get away with it? We should at least have-"

"ENOUGH!" Jeff commanded, shutting up the blond-haired youngster mid-rant. "It was purely an accident. Accidents happen. This incident was nobody's fault, and we can't go pinning the blame on somebody who had no control over what they were doing."

"But..."

Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose, he really wasn't up to dealing with this right now. "Look, do you remember that time we all went to the Halloween fair? You were about four or five and you insisted we took you."

"Yes..." Alan was quieter now. Where was his father taking this?

"Do you remember wandering off and ending up in the Chamber of Horrors?"

Alan shuddered at the memory. The torture equipment in itself was terrifying enough, but there had also been actors around to make the experience all the more real, and that had been enough to complete petrify the youngest Tracy. He had howled in terror, curling up in the middle of the stone floor. He cried out as strong arms grabbed him and lifted him up, convinced that red hot pokers were going to be dug into his flesh and he would find himself on the rack being ripped limb from limb. He had struggled in the tight grip, managing to get an arm free. He lashed out hard, earning a pained grunt from his captor, but he was still being gripped tight. Instead his captor wrapped around themselves around him, covering his small body completely, seemingly to suffocate him instead. He had struggled even more, but he was getting nowhere, he was still trapped. Soon enough he was exhausted. Going limp, resigned to his fate, he had slowly realised that in fact he wasn't in a death grip, but rather a hug, and that his captor had a very familiar scent.

"We were looking all over for you, Scott was the one who found you." Jeff continued, bringing his son back out of his memory. "You were screaming your head off in the middle of the dungeon. He picked you up, but you didn't recognise him. You lashed out, just like this person did, you didn't realise he was there to help you, you just thought he was going to hurt you."

"I broke his nose..." Alan said quietly.

"You did, but yet he didn't let you go. He knew you were terrified, that you didn't mean to hurt him. He stayed there until you calmed down, carried you out in his arms so you couldn't see the exhibit, he even stayed by your bedside that night until you fell asleep, refusing to go to the hospital until you had truly settled, and even then it was under protest. "

Jeff paused, looking up at his son through the vid-screen. Alan was hunched in his seat, looking extremely uncomfortable. This was a painful memory for him, but it needed to be said.

"And the thing is, he has never, ever blamed you for what you did that day. Never. Not when he was getting his nose re-set, not when you came crying into his room in the middle of the night for weeks afterwards, not even when you would refuse to go out trick or treating for those few years and so he had to forgo his night of fun to look after you. So, Alan, having been through it yourself, do you understand? Do you get why we can't blame these sorts of things on those who have no control over what they did?"

Alan tried not to squirm under his father's intense gaze through the vid-screen, instead focusing all of his attention on picking at his scraggy thumbnail. He did understand. He still felt guilty about the whole thing, and that was without him being to blame. He couldn't imagine what he would feel like if Scott had held a grudge about it.

"Well Alan?" Jeff was still waiting. He already knew the answer from his son's expression, but he needed to hear it out loud, for both their sakes.

"Yes sir, I understand." Alan's voice was barely more than a whisper, and he was still picking absently at his thumb.

"Good." Jeff smiled. Volcano Alan had been neutralised. "Now-"

His next instruction was interrupted by a familiar beeping, and he looked up in hope at the other portraits along the wall. His heart filled with hope as he saw it was Scott's that was flashing. If he was calling in, then Virgil wouldn't be to far behind.

"Go ahead Scott." He answered, activating the link, frowning slightly at the sight of a his Field Commander covered in scratches. How many of his sons were going to get into mischief today?

"Thunderbird 1 making final approach to Base. Requesting clearance."

"Clearance granted. What's your ETA?"

"Five minutes. Thunderbird 2 will be about 15 minutes, she took off not long after I did."

"Understood Scott. Any news on John?"

"Yes, he's stable, but sedated. Virgil said it would be a less painful trip for him if he was asleep, he did take quite a beating after all."

Alan couldn't stop the snort of laughter. He knew why Virgil had sedated John, and it wasn't to do with comfort. Sometimes his middle brother had a bit too much fun as the organisation's field medic.

At hearing the sound through his link, Scott grinned. He also knew why Virgil did what he did, but there were some things it was best their father didn't find out. "Hey, is that Alan I hear?" He flicked a switch on his controls, connecting himself to Alan in Thunderbird 5, who's rather subdued face appeared next to his father's on his screen. "Hey Sprout! You alright?"

"Yeah..."

Scott's brow wrinkled slightly. Alan was quiet. Usually he would have been bombarded with a barrage with questions by this time, but instead his baby brother just seemed down. Maybe, like Scott himself, Alan just needed to see John alive with his own eyes, instead of being reassured second hand through a comm-link. Thinking quickly, Scott came to a decision. He looked back to his father, hoping he would agree with what he would say next. "Dad, how about Alan comes back down? We could use him on the ground."

Jeff nodded in agreement, he was about to say the same thing before Scott had called in. "Yes, you're right. With two operatives out of action we're going to need all the hands we can get if a rescue comes in."

"Two...?" Alan's questioning voice came over the speaker. Surely it was only John who wouldn't be on duty for a while? "Dad? What-?" He trailed off mid-question as his father held up a finger to wait.

"Scott." Jeff faced the portrait of his eldest son. "Once John is in the infirmary, do you think you could take Three and go get Alan?" He noted with amusement that Alan winced at the mention of Scott piloting the rocket. The young blond may be willing to share his Thunderbird with his other space-inclined brother, but that didn't mean he was too happy about lending it to anyone else. But, he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter, unless he wanted to stay stuck in orbit.

"Of course. Time to stick that tin-can on auto Sprout!" Scott answered. He too, had spotted Alan wince. Well, it was about time the kid had a taste of what he went through everytime he was unable to pilot One and he had to relinquish the controls to the baby of the family. Not that there was really anything to worry about. All the boys could pilot every one of the crafts as well as each other, their father had made sure of that, but that didn't make it any easier to have anyone else in their respective seats.

Alan didn't seem too happy to start with at the prospect of seeing Scott, but his face lit up as he worked out he would be earth-bound sooner than he had hoped. "Awesome! ETA Scott?" He asked, completely forgetting about his question about who else was out of action.

Scott thought for a second. He didn't really want to be shooting off again so soon, he'd much rather be with John and Gordon instead, but it would be cruel to leave Alan isolated so far away. It was only fair the whole family was together for once, especially after so very nearly being ripped apart. "Well, I'll be lending Virge and Dad a hand first, but hopefully I should be on my way soon after that. So maybe a few hours, I'll let you know when I take off."

"Great! Well, I better go get packed. See you guys later! Thunderbird 5 out." Alan flicked a switch and the comm-link cut out, Scott's screen going black and his portrait in the control centre turning back to it's static counterpart.

"Well, he's eager." Scott commented, raising an eyebrow at the suddenness of Alan cutting the link. Surely he would have stayed on until Virgil had landed. He noticed that his father also had an eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth curled upwards in a smile. "Why do I get the feeling he'd rather avoid me?"

"What? Oh. He got angry at the person who hit John."

"Understandable." Scott pointed out. He too had wanted to throttle the guy.

"Yes, but at least you understand it was completely an accident."

"Well yeah. I'm guessing Sprout got a bit worked up then?"

"Just a bit." Jeff admitted, ruffling his hair again.

"So, how did you calm him down? He looked like he wanted to get sucked out of an airlock." Scott asked. He knew that Alan's temper could be like a live grenade at times.

"Ah. Well. Trying to reason with him was getting nowhere. So I brought up the Halloween Fair incident."

"Halloween fair...Halloween fair..." Scott muttered, trying to think of what his father was talking about. His eyes lit up and he grinned, absently rubbing his nose as he remembered. "Oh yeah! That would shut him up! You know, I never knew such a small fist could have such power behind it, I'll tell you that!"

"I explained that even though he hurt you, you have never ever held him to blame for it."

"Yeah, if anything it was my fault. I did suggest going. And I should have kept a better eye on him, he should have never wandered off in the first place." Now it was Scott's turn to feel guilty.

Jeff sighed. All five sons were taking him on an emotional roller-coaster today, he didn't know how much more he could take. "Look Scott, what's done is done, it wasn't your fault either. Anyway, I had to get Alan to see this incident from another perspective. He needed to understand that in a panic, it is impossible to distinguish friend from foe."

"And it worked?" Scott was impressed. Alan in a temper was nigh impossible to defuse, but if there was one person who could do it, it was Jeff, though even for him it was difficult.

"Yeah. Surprisingly."

"Looks like it'll be a quiet return to Earth later then. That'll make a change." Scott mused. He looked out of the window of Thunderbird One. He could see the island below. He was almost home. Manipulating the controls he turned back to the vid-screen and his father beyond. "Approaching the island, changing to vertical landing."

"FAB Scott. See you shortly."

"Will do. Thunderbird 1 out."

As silence once again reigned in the control room Jeff walked around his desk, flopping down into his chair, burying his head in his hands. It had been a long, emotionally exhausting day, and it was far from over.

Lifting his head, he spotted his cup of coffee he had left there earlier. Picking it up, he took a sip. _Yuck! Stone cold! _He grimaced, practically slamming the cup back onto the wooden surface. He looked towards the kitchen near-by, debating on whether he dared leave the control centre to see if anything was left in the pot. The roar of engines outside answered for him, and he looked out just in time to see a sleek, silver and blue form descend past the Tracy villa. Scott was home, which meant that Virgil would be calling in at any moment, definitely not the time to go on the hunt for coffee.

Instead he attempted to busy himself shuffling the papers strewn across his desk as machinery whirred beneath him, which he knew was moving Thunderbird 1 from the launch pad back to her hanger.

After a few minutes the machinery quietened down again, just in time for another buzzing sound started up to signal an incoming transmission and this time, there was only place it could be coming from.

"Go ahead Virgil." Jeff said, activating the link and raising a hand to greet Scott, who at that very moment had swung into the control centre through his secret panel.

"Thunderbird 2 on final approach. Requesting clearance." Virgil echoed the words of his older brother just minutes prior.

"Clearance granted." Both Jeff and Scott smiled at the two faces visible through the vid-screen. "It's good to see you boys."

"Same. It's not been one of the best days."

"It sure hasn't." Jeff responded. Standing up, he moved to easily address all three of his present sons. It was time to get down to business. "Right. I'll meet you as soon as you land and help transfer John. Virgil, you and Brains will him a thorough check over. I don't want anything missed. I want to be certain that he has no internal or lasting damage. Scott, head down to the hangar and make sure that Tracy One is fuelled up and ready to leave at a moments notice. We may have the facilities to care for John here in his current condition but I don't want any delays if, God forbid, we need to make a dash to a hospital on the mainland. Meet me at Two's silo once you're done. Understood?"

Scott nodded his understanding before turning and making his way out of the room, heading towards the part of the island where Jeff Tracy's more widely known aircraft were stored. The Tracy patriarch watched him go, before turning his attention to his remaining son.

"And Gordon?"

"Yes sir?"

"Good job today. If not for your quick thinking out there... Well, I'd rather not think about it. Thank you."

The aquanaut flushed with embarrassment at his father's praise. "Thanks Dad. It was my pleasure. I mean, I couldn't just leave him could I?"

Jeff smiled with pride. "I know that Gordon, but thank you anyway. You risked serious injury to yourself..." He noticed that his son's eyes flicked away at that, but decided to ignore it for the time being. "...and saved the life of your brother. It's these selfless acts, that all five of you do, that make me so proud to have you as not only valued members of International Rescue, but as my sons as well."

Virgil flushed as well. It was always a nice feeling to be praised as such, especially after such a stress-filled day.

"Thanks Dad." Both occupants of Thunderbird 2 chorused together.

"You're welcome boys. And I do mean it." Jeff replied. "Now, as soon as you've landed, make sure you have the doors unlocked, because I'm coming in and nothing, not even Thunderbird 2 is going to stop me. Understood?"

"FAB." They chorused, Virgil leaning towards Gordon to mutter out of the side of his mouth. "See, what did I tell you? Flapping Hen..."

Gordon barely stopped himself from laughing, instead choosing to nod in agreement, ignoring the furrow that formed in his father's brow, who was wondering what the joke he had missed was, and then deciding he was better off not knowing.

"Right then, see you boys in a few minutes then." He said, feeling his chest tighten slightly. John was almost home, all his boys nearly were, even Alan in a few hours. Every time a rescue came in and he sent his boys out into the danger zone, he always feared that one day, not all of them would return home again. He had thought his worst fear had been realised earlier, but thanks to the combined efforts of the boys, they had all come home to him today, and relatively in all in one piece as well.

"Sure Dad. See you soon. Thunderbird 2 out." Virgil said before cutting the link, the live feed switching back to it's familiar portrait. Jeff turned to look out over the balcony, happy at the fact that this time, the view included the organisation's carrier craft. Leaning over his desk, he picked up and drained the last dregs of his coffee, not caring anymore that it was cold. He was going to need the boost.

Taking a deep breath, he convinced himself to start the long walk through the house down to the hidden depths underneath. He could take the elevator, but the that would mean he would have to wait until they had landed. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he left the control centre, all the while mentally composing himself for what he would find once he was inside Thunderbird 2. His son was alive and home, that was all that mattered now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Greetings! I hope everyone had a good Christmas etc. Me? I spent most of the day writing, so yeah, I had a good day:)**

**And so, as a belated present for everyone, I give you another chapter. A bit shorter this time I will admit, but a chapter is a chapter, so enjoy.**

**Standard Disclaimer: Thunderbirds property of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson (Apologies for the misspelling more than once, I feel stupid...)**

* * *

"Virgil?"

"Over here Dad!"

"John! Virgil, what's happening?"

"Don't panic! He's fine. I just need to get a line in."

The two voices seemed to swirl around and merge into one loud cacophony that thundered around his head. Confused, he tried to shift away from it, groaning as the slight movement caused a spike of pain to lance all the way down his body.

"John? Open your eyes for me."

He struggled his way towards conscious thought towards the deep voice, finally managing to crack open an eyelid a fraction, then immediately regretted that decision up as the bright light above him caused his whole head to explode.

"That's it. You can do it."

A sharp pain in his hand caused him to whimper. Surely he'd been through enough already today?

"Shh, easy, easy, don't worry. Virgil's just giving you some more painkillers."

Sure enough a few seconds later the fireworks in his head had diminished slightly and he slowly pried his eyes open to be greeted by a black blob floating above him, which was thankfully blocking out the light.

"Come on. There we go!"

Blinking slowly, the blob eventually focused and coalesced into a familiar face, over which a small hopeful smile was spread.

"Dad...?" He croaked, relaxing under the gentle hand that caressed his forehead.

"Yes John, I'm right here." Jeff soothed, relief evident in his voice as he ran his fingers through the soft blond hair. "Good to have you home."

"...Stay...?" John whispered, attempting to lift up a heavy arm to reach out, only for his father to grab it and place it back down.

"Of course, John. Of course." Jeff replied, stroking the back of John's limp hand, careful to avoid the IV line that was inserted in it.

"Mmm." John sighed in relief, as once again his eyelids slid shut, but this time he had a smile on his face. He was home. He was finally home.

"Rest well, my little Spaceman." Jeff muttered, bending down and placing a kiss on his son's forehead. He took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that were forming. "Rest well. I'll be right here."

"Dad?" He was brought out of his thoughts as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head to see Virgil standing next to him. "He's almost ready to be moved. Can you give me a hand?"

Jeff stood, shaking his head to compose himself. "Of course. What do you need me to do?"

As they prepared to transfer John into the infirmary, Scott walked in through the med-bay door, having finished his preparations on both Tracy One and Thunderbird 3. While Jeff hadn't asked him to make sure Three was ready to fly, he didn't want to waste any time while he was playing Taxi driver, so as he had to go through the rocket's silo to reach Thunderbird 2, he may as well have killed two birds with one stone.

"Ah, Scott!" His father addressed him, not looking up from what he was doing. He hadn't been too worried when Scott hadn't met up with him outside as he waited for Two's engines to be cut. He knew the quickest route was to cut through Three's silo, so he had guessed what his eldest would have decided to do whilst in there. "Have you seen Gordon anywhere?"

"No." Scott frowned. He had expected Gordon to be in here with the rest of them.

"He said he'd do the post-flight checks for me." Virgil commented, hooking up a bag of fluids to John's IV. "So he may still be in the cockpit."

"He's taking his sweet time." Scott muttered. "I'll go check up on him." He announced, turning around to head out of the door towards the cockpit.

"Good idea Scott. Met us in the infirmary afterwards." Jeff agreed. He turned to his middle son. "Right, are we ready?"

"We're ready." Virgil replied, unhooking the hover stretcher from it's holder and activating it. "Let's go."

They followed Scott out of the door, but instead of going to the the cockpit like he did, they instead guided the stretcher and it's occupant towards the exit and ultimately onwards to the infirmary deep within the depths of the Tracy villa, where they would finally find out the extent of John's injuries.

* * *

"One, two. One...two! C'mon, Gords. You can do this. One foot in front of the other, that's all. One and two. One aaannnddd two. One and...DAMN!"

Gordon cursed loudly as his legs gave way for what seemed the tenth time, and he found himself once again face to face with the floor. He pulled himself towards the wall, leaning heavily against the cool metal, gasping for breath.

He considered hitting something, anything, to release the pent-up rage that was building inside of him, but instead settled for grabbing the pole above him and hauling himself upright, thankful that Virgil had decided to install railings along the walls in this part of the ship.

He stood there for a few moments, holding himself up for dear life. He was drenched in sweat and he felt like he had run two marathons, yet all he had done was get halfway from the cockpit to the infirmary. He should never have sat down. That's what did it. He should have known better really, but exhaustion had overridden common sense, and so it was that he had found his muscles seizing up a bit sooner than expected, hence why he could now hardly walk. At least the painkillers he'd had earlier had taken the edge off, although they were starting to wear off.

At hearing footsteps he straightened up, letting go of the railing. He was fine, he convinced himself. He was a Tracy, and Tracy's never showed weakness. But he still breathed a sigh of relief as whoever was roaming the corridors moved away from him, leaving him in silence apart from his ragged breathing.

"Right, c'mon you moron." He muttered to himself, grabbing a hold of the railing again, using it to propel himself along. "Left. Right. Left. Right."

He repeated the mantra as he struggled along. He could make it, he had spent months re-learning how to walk before, this was nothing in comparison.

He was still muttering as he rounded a corner, focusing all his attention on staying upright. Grabbing out, he almost overbalanced as his hand hit flat metal instead of the rounded surface he had expected. Looking ahead of him, he growled something he knew his father definitely wouldn't approve of as he saw that he had reached the exit door of Thunderbird 2 and so ultimately the railing had ended, to be replaced by the vast open space of the silo. He pressed his forehead against the wall, silently cursing his bad luck.

"Didn't think that bit through, huh?"

Gordon jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him, overbalancing and finding himself crashing to the floor again. Sitting up, he looked around for the source of the voice, narrowing his eyes as he saw the grinning form leaning against a door-frame nearby.

"What are you doing here?" He growled, once again grabbing the railing and struggling back onto his feet.

"Looking for you, Twinkletoes." Scott replied, moving to stand in front of the red-head, who straightened up and let go of the railing. "Need a hand?"

"No." Gordon growled, taking a step forward, crying out as his legs gave way. Scott caught him just in time. "...Yes." He admitted, grateful for his brother's quick reactions that had saved him from hitting the deck yet again.

"So...need that hand yet?" Scott repeated, struggling slightly at supporting the aquanaut in such an awkward position.

"Please." Gordon sighed.

Scott nodded. He shifted position, swiftly lifting his brother up into his arms up so he was cradling him, just like he had many a year ago when the youngest two had been toddlers. Of course, Gordon was a bit heavier now, but out of all of them, he was the lightweight thanks to his swimmer's physique. Scott was thankful for his father insisting they spent hours in the gym to build up their strength,as he wanted all of them to be able to lift a full grown man with ease, as it was never known when they may be called upon to do just that in the middle of a rescue.

"Thanks." Gordon said, also thankful for his brother's strength. There was no way he could have kept going for much longer.

"You know, you should have called." Scott grunted, exiting the green workhorse and making his way towards the infirmary. "You would have saved yourself from all of this. All you had to do was ask. I would have been perfectly happy to come and get you."

"Yeah, I know." Gordon looked away, feeling like a naughty child. "It's just..."

"You're stubborn?" Scott suggested, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"I am not!"

"Yeah, you are! Classic Tracy stubbornness. It's hereditary you know." The eyebrow rose further, joined by a smug smile.

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk!" Gordon retorted, resisting the urge to plant his fist in his brother's face. He didn't fancy being dropped. "You're the worst out of all of us!"

"Really? Oh surely Alan is worse than me." Scott laughed. Sure, he knew he had his moments, but Alan was a different league altogether.

"Hmmm... I'll admit he's running a close second, but I'm afraid you still hold the title. I mean, do you have any idea what you're like out on rescues? Sometimes all I can hear in my earpiece is nag, nag, nag!"

"I'm nagging? God, you should hear what I have to put up with. Especially when Kyrano decides he's had enough coffee." Scott pointed out. He was enjoying this.

Gordon couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, alright then. Dad is the worst. Hands down."

"You can say that again..."

"I'm the worst at what, boys?"

Both of them started at the sudden voice. So engrossed in their banter, they hadn't realised that Scott had already made it to the infirmary, and were now standing in direct sight of their father and Virgil, who had just transferred a sleeping John onto a bed.

At seeing his red-headed son being carried in the arms of his eldest, Jeff's brow furrowed. He straightened up, slowly walking to stand in front of the pair, his head tilted to the side questioningly.

"Erm, well..." Gordon stammered, looking to his brother for help.

"You're the worst at...The worst at..." Scott stalled, thinking quickly. "Ah! The worst at when it comes to volleyball." He finished, stretching a smile across his face.

"I see... And when was the last time you played volleyball with me, hmmm?" Jeff questioned, smiling inwardly at the expressions on both boys faces. He could always tell when they were lying. But that wasn't the question he wanted answered.

"Gordon. Why on earth didn't you call for help?" He asked, knowing exactly why his second youngest was being carried like a child. He held out his arms, nodding an unspoken command to Scott.

"Erm..." Gordon floundered, wincing as he was transferred into the equally strong grip of his father.

"Because he's stubborn." Scott interjected, rotating his shoulder, glad to have been relieved of his load.

"Hmm, that's a given." Jeff murmured, moving towards the bed that was next to John. Gordon opened his mouth to argue then decided against it as his back when into spasm. At seeing his son screw up his face in pain, Jeff hurried his pace, carefully placing Gordon down onto the bed, for which he was very grateful.

"Virgil." Jeff caught the attention of the medic, who was still fussing over John, and pointed to Gordon, indicating that he needed attention. Checking John's readings one last time on one of the monitors, Virgil nodded, before quickly making his way to the next bed to start fussing over another sibling.

"Scott. With me." Jeff beckoned to the field commander, and together they went out of the room, the automatic door hissing shut behind them. Once out there, he turned to his eldest, who had a mixture of confusion and fear on his face, a result of being summoned outside unexpectedly.

"Do I really nag that much?" Jeff asked, a smile breaking out on his face

Scott's face lit up as he realised he wasn't in trouble and he grinned. "Yeah, you do have your moments." He admitted.

Jeff snorted with amusement. "As do you son." He said, clapping his hands onto Scott's shoulders. "Now, go get Alan, would you."

"But..." Scott started to protest. He hadn't managed to get close to John since he had got home. First he had been sent to find Gordon and now he was to fetch Alan as well.

"You said you would." Jeff reminded him, his voice soft. He knew that Scott would much rather stay here. "John's not going anywhere, at least for the moment."

"But..."

"Look, if anything does happen, I'll be in contact. You'll be the first to know after me ok?" Jeff soothed. He was doing that a lot today it seemed. "But you told Alan you would go and get him as soon as John was settled. He needs to be here as much as you do Scott. You know he and John are close."

Scott dropped his gaze, scuffing his feet. "Yeah, I know." He sighed. May as well get it over and done with. He lifted his head again, looking his father in the eye. "Ok, I'll go."

"Good. Now get going. Alan's waiting." Jeff used his hands to twist Scott around on the spot and gently push him in the direction of Thunderbird 3. Scott took the hint and reluctantly headed off to the silo, where the red rocket was ready and waiting to go.

Jeff watched him go, then waved his hand in front of the sensor, to which the door opened with a hiss. Stepping back into the infirmary, he made his way back to John's side, watching over him as Virgil continued to attend to Gordon.

A few minutes later a deep rumbling cold be felt all through the base, signalling the take-off of Thunderbird 3, on its way to bring the final Tracy back to Earth.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi guys! Here's a new chapter for all you wonderful people. Thanks for all the great reviews and favs.**

**I will admit I struggled with this one and to be honest, I'm still not completely happy with it, it's already been re-written way too many times, but I think it's about as good as it will get so it'll have to do!**

**Thunderbirds are property of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson**

* * *

"Docking sequence complete."

Scott cut the engines and jumped to his feet as soon as the electronic voice confirmed that the clamps had locked on. His fingers danced over the controls, pausing when he reached the comms-panel. It had been pretty much silent throughout the whole journey, only having been used to request clearance with Alan, and that had only been a few seconds, the kid hadn't even bothered to activate the visual.

_'Maybe I should call home...' _Scott thought, his fingers still hovering in mid-air. '_You know, just to check up on everyone. But then again, surely no news is good news...' _He stood wavering for a few moments, staring at the speaker, willing it to spring into life by itself and make the decision for him. But unsurprisingly, it stayed silent. Balling his hand into a fist, Scott fought the urge to punch something. For one, Alan would probably break his nose again if he wrecked anything in his Bird, and this time, it wouldn't be an accident.

Breathing deeply, he slowly calmed himself down. Punching the last few buttons around him, maybe with a bit more force than necessary, he then turned on his heel and walked out of the cockpit onto the docking tube that was linked to Thunderbird 5.

Reaching the airlock, he punched in the access code and the large metal door swung inwards. He stepped into the docking tube, the door hissing shut behind him as his footsteps echoed along the metal floor.

He soon reached the second door at the end and punched in the code to open it. A frown lining his face as ACCESS DENIED flashed up on the lock's screen. Odd, he was sure he had entered it right. He tried again, this time slowly to make sure he hit the right buttons, only to still be denied again. Sighing, he closed his eyes. This really wasn't turning out to be one of the best days. He entered another code, letting out a sigh of relief when it worked, the face of his baby brother filling the screen.

"Alan, I can't-" He stopped, cocking his head to one side as he noticed how Alan was sitting in his seat. The young blond wasn't paying attention, instead he had his nose in a book, with his feet propped up on the console. Scott shook his head, he had already noticed the problem that wasn't allowing him to get into the organisation's space station. "If I didn't know better, I would say you don't want to see me."

"What?" Alan finally looked up at the screen, a confused look on his face. Yes, he may still be feeling slightly guilty from the memories that their father had dug up earlier, but that didn't mean he wasn't looking forward to seeing his older brother, if anything else it was the first direct contact he had had with anyone for weeks.

Scott leant against the curved wall, a smile filtering onto his face. "Move your foot."

"Why?"

Scott rolled his eyes. Alan could be so stupid sometimes. "You're leaning on the lock-down, which means, I can't get in. Which means, if you want a ride home, which I'm sure you do, you need to move your foot. Specifically, your left one..."

Alan looked down at his feet, his eyes going wide as he saw that he did indeed have his left boot right on top of the lock-down switch. He had completely forgotten about it, there wasn't much use for something that restricted access to the station from the outside.

He shot forward quickly in panic, slamming his hand down on the switch, the book sliding off his lap and landing on the floor with a clang. A second later the door in front of Scott hissed open and he finally stepped over the threshold into Thunderbird 5 and towards where Alan was sitting.

"Thanks!" He said, ruffling the scruffy blond hair. He bent down and picked up the hardback, brushing off the dust cover. "1984 by George Orwell... One of John's favourites. I had wondered where he had squirrelled it. He got it for his 10th birthday, you know."

"10th?"

"Yeah, Dad got it for him, and then got told off by Grandma. She said it was much too old for a 10 year old, but John loved it. Wouldn't put it down. Read it cover to cover in a couple of days."

"A couple of days?" Alan was impressed. He'd only got halfway in about a week.

"Yeah, he always was quite the bookworm... Although he's always said he would have been quicker had Gordon not done his usual birthday prank" Scott traced his fingers over the title, then flipped through the dog-eared pages. "It's ironic really. He used to read about a world that watches a man, and now he's the man who watches the world."

"Yeah..."

They both fell silent for a few moments, watching the blue planet slowly spin below them out of the observation window. Alan was the first to break the silence.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

Scott looked down in surprise. "About what?"

"You know, about breaking your nose." Alan said quietly, picking at his thumb again.

"Seriously? Alan, that was ages ago!"

"Yeah, but..."

Scott clamped his hands down on his brother's shoulders, shutting him up. "Look kid. What Dad said was true. I have never blamed you for it, it was purely an accident. And there's nothing for you to worry about, so just forget about it ok?"

"...Ok..."

"That's more like it!" Scott grabbed his brother in a headlock and ruffled the blond mop. "Come on, no point in hanging around here all day. Have you put this thing on auto yet."

"Yeah, pretty much. Just a few more things left to do."

"Right then." Scott clapped his hands together. "Let's get a move on then. Many hands make quick work and all that."

Alan nodded and stood up, taking the book back from Scott. Together they walked through Thunderbird 5, turning the last systems onto auto-pilot. As Alan walked back into the control room from his bedroom, a loud beeping echoed around the station, indicating an incoming transmission.

"Great..." Alan muttered, dumping his two bags on the floor and turning to look at the flashing green light on the console. "Just great..."

"What is it?" Scott asked as he ran into the room. "A rescue?"

"Maybe." Alan slid into his seat and activated the comm-link. The familiar face of the Island's scientist filled the screen. "Oh hey Dad - oof!" He suddenly found himself sprawled on the metal floor, having been shoved from his seat by Scott.

"Dad! What's happened?" Scott exclaimed. There could really only be one reason why their father could be calling.

Jeff smiled. He had expected Scott to jump to the worst conclusion. "Don't panic Scott. John's ok. I just thought you would like an update. Brains and Virgil have just finished their test and I'm happy to say that he has escaped internal injury."

"Oh thank God for that!" Scott let out a sigh of relief, as did Alan who was brushing himself down after picking himself up.

"Yes, it is good news." Jeff agreed. "He does however have a few cracked ribs and a hairline fracture on his lower jaw, plus extensive bruising but it's nothing a few weeks R+R won't fix."

"And Gordon?" Scott asked, causing Alan to start in alarm.

"What? Gordon?" Now it was Alan's turn to exclaim and jumped into his brother's lap so he could see his father. "What's happened to Gordon?"

"Don't panic Alan." Jeff soothed. "He's pulled a few muscles in his back, that's all. He'll be a bit stiff for a few days. But he's fine, he's already annoying Virgil as usual."

"That sounds about right." Alan grinned, glad that nothing was badly wrong with his partner in crime. It didn't however mean that he wasn't going to completely take the mickey out of the red-head while he couldn't escape.

"Has he woken up yet?" Scott asked, shifting Alan onto one knee so he too could see the screen again.

"Not yet. But Virgil has said that sleep is the best thing for him at the moment."

"Yeah. Well, we're pretty much done here so we should be on our way in about.."

"Five minutes." Alan cut in, glancing at his watch. He calculated an approximate journey time, then took 10 minutes off. With him at the controls and with Scott as a co-pilot, they weren't going to be hanging around. "Actually, make that three."

"Ok." Jeff nodded. "Well, I better be heading back to the infirmary now. I'll see you boys there then."

"Yeah, see you soon. Thunderbird 5 out." Alan leant over and flicked the switch, cutting off the comm-link, before finding himself sitting back on the floor again, Scott having pushed him off.

"Hey!" He looked up, glaring at his brother who was looking down with a smirk on his face.

"You're heavy, you know." He stood up and held out a hand, hauling Alan back onto his feet. "Come on, let's go."

"Yeah, about time too."

Alan flicked the last few switches on the console, fully turning the Space Station over to auto-pilot, and then bent down and grabbed his bags, throwing one to Scott.

"What have you got in here?" He asked, surprised by its weight. He unzipped it, laughing when he saw the pile of books inside, the top one of which was the very one Alan had been reading earlier.

"Well, I haven't finished it yet." Alan shrugged. "Plus I thought that John might like a few of his to re-read while he's recovering."

"We do have an extensive library you know." Scott said, zipping the bag shut again and hoisting it onto his shoulder. Together they walked from the control room and into the docking tube, the large door hissing shut behind them.

"This is John we're talking about, remember." They reached the connecting door to Thunderbird 3 and the young astronaut punched in the access code. The door hissed open and they both stepped through. Alan breathed in deeply, taking in the familiar scent and lovingly running his hand over the nearest console. While he didn't mind doing his rotation on Five, there was nothing like being back in his own Bird.

"That is true...He's probably already read everything in there. Now, I'm guessing you'll be flying?"

Alan grinned. "Just you try to stop me!" He dropped his bag on the floor again and practically ran to the pilot's seat, immediately starting his pre-flight checks.

"I'd thought as much." Scott laughed. He picked up the bag dumped on the floor and stowed it away in it's proper place before sitting in the co-pilot's seat. "Ready?"

"Hang on." Alan's hands flew over the console. "Right... Ready!"

"OK, let's get a move on."

Outside, the three large engines fired into life and the docking tube retracted back, and the red rocket swung away from the space station and started on the long journey back to Earth, much to the delight of the two occupants aboard.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Woohoo! Chapter 5! I was thinking a few days ago that I really should have left this story as the one chapter but if you lot are still reading it, then I shall continue writing it! So enjoy, because our boys are finally back together!**

**Standard Disclaimer: Not mine, Thunderbirds belong to the Andersons**

* * *

"Well, I'd call that a new record." Scott stood and stretched, groaning as both shoulders popped in quick succession. "Although that re-entry left much to be desired..."

"Oh I don't know, it wasn't that bad." Alan commented as he finished his checks. "You're just getting old. Can't take the G-forces as well as you used to, you know!"

"Oh really?" Scott growled. He silently moved across the cockpit to stand behind the figure sitting with his back to him and quickly wrapped his arm around his neck, causing Alan to squeak in alarm. "You know, maybe I haven't quite forgiven you for breaking my nose..." He tightened his grip, just enough to restrict Alan's airway slightly, squeezing out another squeak.

"...Scott! ...Please!...I...was...kidding!" Alan gasped, his hands gripping tightly on his brother's arm as he felt himself being lifted from his seat.

"Kidding huh?" Scott whispered menacingly in his brother's ear. He smiled devilishly as he felt Alan's pounding pulse quicken in fear. "You know, brother dear, that before this gig, I was in the military. I was taught how to do things that would give even the toughest man on the planet nightmares. Not even Dad knows about some of them. So the question is, would you like to find out instead?"

"NO!" Alan croaked, putting all his strength into trying to escape.

Scott held on for a second longer before letting out a loud tut. "Oh, fine!" He released his grip, practically dropping Alan back down. "You ruin all my fun!"

"I hate you sometimes!"

"Yeah, well, consider us now equal." Scott ruffled the mop of blond hair, ignoring the deathly glare being shot in his direction. "It was probably about time."

He moved towards the storage locker and opened it, Alan following behind grumbling and rubbing at his throat. Swinging one bag over his shoulder, Scott pulled out the second, swinging it in his younger brother's direction, who snatched it away with a bit more force than necessary.

"So, what do you reckon is the fastest way to the infirmary?" Scott asked. "Down to the hangar floor and then cut across, or go up to the control centre and go from there?"

"Hangar." Alan answered matter-of-factly. "Saves going up and down levels. At least this way we'll be on the right floor."

"Good point. Let's go then." Scott nodded. They walked out of the cockpit and towards the elevator that would take them straight to the hangar floor. Scott thumbed the button and the doors hissed open and they stepped inside.

As the elevator started to move, Alan scuffed his feet on the floor. "Is what you said true? Were you really trained to do things that would give people nightmares?"

Scott let out a snort of laughter. "No! Of course not! I was a pilot, for God's sake, not a super soldier! You have to admit though, I make a good actor!"

Alan shook his head in despair, he had been well and truly got. As they came to a halt at the floor of the hangar, he turned to face his older brother. "You know, now that I think about it, you're not that old."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you've changed your tune!"

Alan nodded, a sweet smile spread across his face. A smile that transformed into a cheeky grin as the doors hissed open, revealing a clear hangar floor. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder. "Yeah, you're bloody ancient!" And with that he ran laughing out of the door.

"Ooh! You get back here!" Scott shouted, running out of the elevator himself and giving chase, cursing the fact that he had decided to carry the heavier bag.

They ran laughing across the open floor, their boots clanging on the metal. Alan ducked through the doorway into the corridor, with Scott not far behind, and was sent flying by a dripping wet Virgil wearing nothing but swimming trunks who was also running towards the infirmary.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Scott dropped his bag and grabbed the medic with both arms stopping him from falling too. "Virge, what's going on? What's happened?"

"John!" Virgil managed to blurt out, taking in a ragged breath. "It's John, he's woken up."

"That's good right?" Alan asked as he picked himself up for what seemed the millionth time that day.

"That's not the problem."

Scott's heart skipped a beat. For Virgil to look this worried, it couldn't be good. "Virge, what's happened to John?"

"I-I-I don't know." Virgil stammered, sounding remarkably like Brains. "He was fine not long ago, we'd got him changed and he was sleeping peacefully, so I decided to take Gords down to the hot tub, you know, to help his muscles, a-and the next thing I know I get a call from Dad saying John's eyes just flew open and h-he started convulsing or something..."

"Oh God..." Scott let go of his middle brother before turning to his youngest, trying desperately to stay calm. "Alan... You go get Gords. Get him before he tries to come back himself. Put these somewhere too." He kicked the bag by his feet.

"Ok." Alan replied, bending down and picking up the second bag, before turning and running as best he could under the weight.

"Virge, we need to go. Now."

With a nod to each other, both men took off again, the sound of Scott's boots and Virgil's bare feet echoing from the walls.

A minute later they burst through the doors of the infirmary and they both skidded to a halt, taking in in the scene unfolding in front of them. Jeff was attempting to hold down John, who was thrashing about and drenched in sweat, his eyes wide with fear. Brains was scurrying around the various machines, trying to make heads or tails of what was happening.

Coming to his senses, Scott shot to John's bedside, as did Virgil who joined Brains in his assessment.

"John!" Scott grabbed hold of his brother's bare shoulder, the heat of the flesh almost burning him.

"Virgil! What's happening?" Jeff asked, a panicky edge evident in his voice. He ducked John's arm as he swung out again, his back arching and the sweat pouring off him.

"His temperature's rising, as is his heart rate, must be a fever setting in. We need to cool him down. Scott, grab some water, start sponging him down. Brains, grab a saline bag. It's a priority to keep him hydrated."

"Right."

"O-ok Virgil."

The two men ran off to grab the needed equipment. Virgil took up Scott's previous position by his father.

"John? John, look at me. Listen, you need to calm down." He tried to get through to his older brother but with no response.

"No...no...She's going...down..." The blond cried out, his eyes unfocused and rolling in their sockets. "...emergency...mayday...mayday..."

Virgil swore loudly. The fever had taken a hold and John was heading towards delirium. "We need to stop him from moving. With those painkillers inside him he could very easily break his ribs completely and puncture a lung."

"Damn. John? John, can you hear me?" The Tracy patriarch asked, concerned as whether he would be able to get through his son's fever-induced state.

"F-five...she's...fallen out...of orbit...emergency."

A worried glance was exchanged. " Listen to me John. Five is safe. You're safe. You're home." Jeff tried to reassure, brushing his son's damp hair off of his forehead.

"No...Dad...don't...understand...hurry...re-entry...the…heat…we're…burning up." John continued to thrash about, convinced that he was on his Thunderbird instead of in a hospital bed.

"Virgil, what now?" Jeff hissed, suddenly grabbing hold of John as he almost rolled off the bed. He spotted Scott and Brains running back and gestured for them to hurry up. "He's completely out of it. What do we do now?"

Virgil shrugged. "Play along, I guess. If anyone can get through, it's you." Scott skidded to a halt next to them, almost losing the sponge floating in the bowl in his hands as the water in it sloshed around. Brains arrived a second later. "Ah, good. Scott, start cooling him down. Brains, hook that up to his IV." Virgil then nodded to his father, praying that his familiar tones would calm John down.

Jeff cleared his throat, composing himself. "John? John, where are you?" He asked, pretending that he had just walked in through the docking tube on the space station and was trying to locate his son.

"H-here..." John croaked, swinging his arm out and almost knocking the bowl out of Scott's hands as he started sponging. Jeff nodded to Scott, indicating that he too should pretend he was on the imaginary rescue.

"John!" Scott supplied, surprised as John in fact reacted slightly to his voice too.

Jeff smiled, nodding to Virgil. It seemed to be working. He waited a second and then continued the façade. "We've got you, son. We've got you."

"...Dad...hurry...we...need to...get...out...of here..."

"I know, I know. But you're hurt. We need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

Having heard his father's words, John finally stopped his thrashing around, his breathing heavy from his excursions.

"That's it, that's it." Jeff soothed. "Ok, we've got you, we're moving you now." He glanced at the monitors around him, smiling as he watched John's heart rate drop back down towards normal. "Ok, son we're in Three now, you're safe. Scott, turn up the air con, we need to cool him down."

"FAB." Scott answered, squeezing out the sponge and placing it on John's forehead. "How's that?"

"...Good..." The blond murmured. Convinced that he was now out of danger, John finally started to settle.. A thought flickered through his head, something to do with his Bird, but he felt exhaustion taking hold, and he let it wash over him, just like the cooling feeling flowing over his skin.

"That's it John. Just rest. Don't worry about a thing. We'll get you home." Jeff bent down, retrieving the oxygen mask from where it had been thrown when the whole situation had started, what now seemed an age ago. He checked the air flow and placed it back over John's face.

"Rest..." Now that sounded like a good idea, John felt too weak to do anything else. His eyelids once again slid shut and his breathing slowed as succumbed to a fitful sleep.

Four sighs of relief echoed around the room. Brains checked all the monitors and leads while Scott continued to bathe his brother. Virgil practically collapsed into the chair by the bed, leaning his head against his father's side for support.

"Good work kid." Jeff patted his middle son on the back, proud at how efficiently he had dealt with the situation. If there were two things Virgil was good at, it was engineering and being an excellent medic. It may seem a slightly strange combination, but for Virgil, it seemed to work quite well.

"Thanks Dad. How's he doing Brains?"

"W-well, his, um, heart rate is back to normal, a-a-and the water is bringing his temperature down."

"Good. Good." Virgil took a deep breath. He had certainly had easier days.

"Virge?" Scott asked, gently dabbing the sponge over the livid bruises dotting John's face and chest.

"Mmm?"

"Was that suppose to happen? You know, the fever?"

Virgil lifted his head. "Well, it's not uncommon for a fever to set in after a near-drowning, but usually it's pretty low-grade. I didn't think it would hit him that hard."

"Strange." Jeff murmured and Scott agreed.

"P-p-perhaps it was that c-cold he had last week." Brains suggested. "If his, um, immune system was already weakened, i-it wouldn't take much for a fever to s-start."

"I suppose." Virgil shrugged. He then shivered. In all the excitement, he had forgotten he was wearing nothing more than a pair of wet swimming trunks. And in the air-conditioned infirmary, he was starting to feel a chill. "Brr, I should really go get dressed."

Jeff ruffled the chestnut hair currently at his waist level. "Good idea. Go do that." Virgil heaved himself out of the chair and, after one last glance at the monitors, made his way out of the infirmary. After watching him go, the Tracy patriarch turned to his resident scientist. "Brains, are you happy to do a few more x-rays on him? I'd like to make sure he hasn't injured himself further."

"Yes sir. I'll go start the preparations. I'll do them as soon as his temperature is more normal."

"Very well." As Brains scurried off to do the needed preparations in the x-ray suite, Jeff mirrored the actions of Virgil a minute earlier, flopping into the recently vacated chair, leaning his head against the white-washed wall.

"One day, Scott, one of you will manage to give me a fatal heart attack. If I didn't know better I would say you lot do this sort of thing on purpose.

"Tell me about it. I'm surprised I haven't gone prematurely grey." Scott said. He checked John's temperature reading. While it was still high, it had fallen enough for him not to need any more attention. Satisfied, Scott dropped the sponge, gently placing his hand on his brother's damp shoulder. He watched the bruised chest rise and fall rhythmically, felt the strong pulse under his fingers, making sure that he himself was not hallucinating, that it really was his brother lying there, and not just a figment of his imagination. "Dad, I have seen a lot of things in this job, but what I witnessed out there today is something that I never, ever want to see again. Had Gords not been there, I don't know what-" He broke off, his voice cracking as the stresses and strains of the day finally caught up with him.

Jeff stood and wrapped an arm around his eldest son, pulling him into a hug. "Oh Scott. There's no need to focus on what could have happened. Focus instead on the fact that Gordon _was_ there, and that thanks to him being reckless as usual, John is alive. No matter how much trouble that fiery red-head of mine can be, remember, under that tough exterior of his, he's got a heart of gold. He cares for his brothers as much as you do."

Scott sniffed loudly and nodded. He couldn't deny that Gordon cared. He had risked permanent injury to himself after all. They stood in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Are we interrupting something?" A cheeky voice asked from the doorway, bringing them back to reality. Scott lifted his head, letting out a mock groan as he saw the two young men silhouetted there, one standing, one sitting.

"Talking of trouble." He muttered. Jeff turned, a wide smile spreading across his face as he recognised the standing figure.

"Alan!" He let go of Scott and crossed the room quickly, pulling yet another son into another hug. "Oh Alan, it's good to see you."

"It's good to be back. Have we missed all the fun?" The astronaut asked, noticing that John seemed to be settled. "See Gords, told you we'd be too late. Shouldn't have wasted time getting you dressed."

"Didn't stop you trying though..." Gordon grumbled from the wheelchair in front of Alan. "Somebody would have thought you were trying to beat the land speed record or something..."

"Ha, you should have seen his re-entry, Gords." Scott grinned, walking over to join the group. "I didn't even think it was possible to descend that quickly without crashing!"

"There was nothing wrong with my re-entry." Alan pouted.

"Oh yeah, and there's nothing wrong with my back." The aquanaut joked, earning him a glare from the young blond, which he ignored. "Now, any chance of a hand up?"

Jeff nodded and moved to help his son, as did Scott. Even though it would be easier to wheel Gordon over to the bed, they both knew that wheelchairs brought out painful memories for the Aquanaut, and that he would want to prove to himself more than anyone else that he was still capable of walking. Kneeling down, Jeff swung one of the red-head's arms over his shoulders, and Scott mirrored him on the opposite side.

"Ready?" Jeff asked, to which Gordon nodded. "Right then, three, two, one, lift!"

Together they carefully lifted Gordon, who was muttering curses under his breath, onto his feet. They stood there for a second as the red-head composed himself for the relatively short walk to his bed, but for him it would be one of the longest he had ever done in his life.

"You ok?" Scott asked as he noticed that Gordon had gone very pale.

"Yes, yes." Gordon waved away the concern. He could do this. He had to do this. "Let's go."

"Alright then."

Slowly the three of them made their way across the room, Alan pushing the wheelchair behind in the unlikely event it was needed. Unlikely, because they all knew that Gordon would much rather claw his way along with his hands than admit he couldn't walk again.

After what seemed like an age, Gordon found himself being gently lowered onto the edge of the mattress. He let his father and Scott fuss around him as he sat there, proud with himself that he had done what he had set out to do. A tap on his shoulder made him look up, and he groaned as he saw his father holding out a pair of pyjamas.

"Aw, c'mon Dad. I don't have to stay here do I?" He whined. It was well known he hated the infirmary. He had been willing to stay for the evening but had hoped he could go back to his room for the night.

"Yes, I'm afraid you do." Jeff said, still holding the pyjamas. "You've damaged your back, and while it may only be muscle damage, I still want you under observation for one night."

"But-"

"No buts. You're staying here. Now, are you capable of dressing yourself, or would you like a hand?"

"Fine. Hand please." Gordon admitted begrudgingly, wincing as he raised his arms up. "And a top-up on the painkillers too while we're at it too."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know, this chapter has been written so quickly, I even surprised myself. It's not a short one either, it's one of the more longer bits I've written. Don't expect this to be a regular thing though, this time it sort of just happened! Enjoy! Oh, and there will be another author's note at the bottom of this chapter, just warning you! If you'd like the sound of it, please read it and answer accordingly. :)**

**Standard Disclaimer: Not mine. The Andersons. That is all!**

* * *

"Ow. Careful! That hurt!"

"Shh, Gords! You'll wake up Dad."

"Oh, he's out of it. Ah! No! Put me down, Put me down!"

"Ok, ok. This would be so much easier if you let me get the wheelchair."

"Alan, if you know me as well as you claim to, you'd know not to even think that word near me."

"Yes, sorry, I know, I know. So, want to try again?"

"Yeah. This place gives me nightmares..."

"Ok, but this time, shush!"

"Oh, you can talk... Ow! Jeez. Stupid, stupid."

"You alright?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Let's go already. Otherwise Dad really will wake up."

"Too late boys. Now, would you care to explain what you are up to at 1am?"

* * *

Leaning his head against the cool tile, Scott let the warm water pound against his back, letting it wash all his tensions and anxieties off his body and sending it swirling down the drain. It had been two days since John had been brought back, two days of relative hell, as they waited for his fever to break.

Gordon had been given the all clear and discharged the morning after his escape attempt, and thanks to being in his father's bad books for his involvement, Alan had made himself scarce that day, claiming that he had a beat-up old car that _really_ needed his attention, only reappearing at the dinner table, although his food had gone cold by the time he had managed to eat it as Scott had immediately ordered him to have a shower as he was traipsing grease and oil everywhere. Thankfully for him, that was something that his father didn't heard about, having taken his dinner in the infirmary so he could keep an eye on John. Not that he ate much of it, he had barely done anything but sit by his son's bedside. He had only left the whitewashed room a few times, and only then after being mercilessly nagged by his other four sons who insisted that he have a break, that he get some sleep. But after an hour or so, he would be back, and so in that uncomfortable plastic chair, he stayed, hour after hour, mostly accompanied by Scott, who too refused to leave, sometimes by Virgil as he checked over his brother and the various drips and tubes hooked up to him, and sometimes by the younger two who, even though they tried to hide behind tough exteriors, were taking the whole situation quite hard. Even Gordon, who, though he had tried his hardest to stay, and then get, out of the infirmary, had hobbled back to sit by John's bedside a few times, chatting and joking, teasing and playfully insulting, reminding his brother that he hadn't saved his life just so he could spend the rest of his days a vegetable and so he better give that fever of his a boot up the backside to get going. And so it was, in the early hours of the second morning, whilst Scott and Gordon kept watch, having got rid of their father for a bit, that John finally won, and his fever finally broke, much to everyone's relief.

Scott tilted his head backward, letting the water flow over his face. It had now been a few hours since the excitement of the night. John was yet to wake up, but according to Virgil and Brains, sleep was the best thing for him at the moment and he would wake in his own time. He had also been taken off oxygen, the two island medics happy that he had no water left in his lungs and so he was no longer in danger of secondary drowning. And so, happy knowing that his brother had finally taken a turn for the better, Scott had excused himself for a much needed shower, partly to wash, and partly to reflect.

He stood there for a minute longer under the cascade before turning the tap and shutting it off. Stepping out of the cubicle, he grabbed his towel and started to dry himself off. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he cast an eye over his toned body, his gaze hovering over the multitude of different sized scars that stood out against his slightly tanned skin, evidence of his extraordinary job, of the fact that he potentially put his life on the line everytime he was called out. He knew that every single one of his siblings also hid their own collection of scars under their uniforms, they had all had close calls in their duties in International Rescue, and they were known to compare them from time to time, always trying to one-up each other. Even John had a few impressive ones, although he hadn't even acquired his biggest one, a ragged line along his right thigh, in the direct line of duty. Instead he had managed to catch himself on a sharp edge whilst undertaking routine maintenance in Thunderbird 5, which had resulted in a sheepish call back to the island with a request for an impromptu lift back to Earth so he could go get stitches. Even Jeff had been rendered speechless by that one, and that was saying something. Eventually though he came to his senses and dispatched a giggling Alan and a tutting Virgil to go sort out their idiot brother, and a few hours later John was back on duty in the Space Station, this time with a sewn-up leg and a very fetching bandage.

Ruffling his damp hair, Scott wrapped the towel around his middle and stepped out of the bathroom, just in time to hear his watch start beeping. While it was waterproof, Scott preferred not to wear it in the shower. He rushed towards it, grabbing it off his desk, losing his towel in the process. He activated it, not caring about the fact he was now standing completely. He was alone in his locked bedroom and whoever was contacting him would only see his head, so his state of undress didn't really matter.

"Scott, it's me." The face of his father replaced the clock face.

"Hey Dad. Have you been kicked out again?" Scott asked as he spotted that Jeff was in the control room instead of the infirmary.

"How did you guess?" Jeff chuckled. "Anyone would think they don't want me seeing him."

"To be fair, you've probably been with him more than the rest of us. It's probably about time you had a break."

"Fat chance of that happening. Got called into the Control Centre by Brains. A potential job has just come in. We've been assured it's not too urgent but you couldn't pop up and assess it with us, could you? I'm thinking it may be a bit of a tight squeeze."

"Sure thing." Scott replied. "I'll be right up."

"Excellent." Jeff nodded and moved to sign off, pausing as he realised something. "Oh, and Scott?"

"Mmm?"

"Make yourself descent first will you? We're a rescue organisation, not a nudist camp."

Scott blushed as his father chuckled. "Yes Sir."

"That's my boy. See you in a minute."

* * *

Half and hour later, a now dressed Scott ambled down the corridor towards the infirmary. As he got closer he heard the sound of laughter and he smiled. At least tracking down his siblings wouldn't be a difficult job, he could hear three different voices, none of which had John's distinctive tone, and so it would seem that they were all together in one place for once.

Stepping through the door as it swished open, he couldn't help but grin at the sight before him. Gordon and Alan were lying side by side on the bed that the Aquanaut had occupied the night before last, a game controller in each of their hands and a large pile of snacks and drinks balanced on the bedside table. At the end of the bed was a large screen TV on wheels, and it was this that they were fixated on. Alan was sitting on the chair next to the bed, also holding a controller, but he wasn't using it. Instead he was laughing uncontrollably as Virgil and Gordon fought it out against each other in whatever it was they were playing.

"NO! NO! NONONONONONO!" Virgil yelled, evidently losing.

"YESYESYESYESYES! YYYEEEEESSSSSSSS!"

"FATALITY!" Boomed the TV, and Gordon whooped with joy, throwing his arms up in the air, wincing slightly as he pulled his still-sore back in doing so.

"YOU RIPPED ME IN HALF! HOW DID YOU RIP ME IN HALF?" Virgil shouted, absolutely astounded at what had just happened. "You pushed me down the stairs, and then ripped me in half! WHY?"

"Because I rock! And you suck." Gordon replied, high-fiving Alan. "Face it Virge, you just got your ass handed to you again.

"I do hope that's not John's heart monitor." Scott cut in, leaning against the door-frame. "Otherwise I'd hate to think what the 'FATALITY' was."

Virgil looked towards the door, sighing in relief when he saw his older brother standing there, the edge of his mouth curled up in amusement. "Oh Scott, thank God you're here. These two are ganging up on me, and sleeping beauty over there is being no help at all." He jerked his thumb towards the blond figure in the next bed, who was seemingly oblivious to what was happening around him.

"We are not ganging up!" Alan grinned. "You're just really bad!"

"I am not!" Virgil retorted.

"Yeah, you are!"

"What are you guys playing then?" Scott asked, pushing himself off and making his way towards them.

"Mortal Kombat." Gordon said, taking a swig of cola and promptly letting out a loud belch.

"Mortal Kombat huh? Now that's an old game. Older than Dad in fact."

"Yeah, the graphics are a bit dated, but it's still fun."

"For you maybe." Virgil muttered, snatching the cola and gulping it down.

"Fancy a go?" Alan asked, waving a spare controller in the air. "2v2. You and Virge, me and Gordon?"

"I'd watch out for those two." Virgil commented dryly. "Alan likes to rip your arms off and flay you with them, whilst Gords here gets straight to the point and just rips you in half..."

"What can I say, it's what I'm good at."

"While I'd love to guys." Scott shrugged. "I'm gonna break this party up. We got a call out; a collapsed mine in Wales. All the miners are accounted for, so it's not blazingly urgent but they're stuck down there. The only viable way to get them out is a handy-dandy underground river. The only problem is, the tunnel it flows in is just under 20ft in diameter, and the current is pretty strong too, so..."

"So they need something small, nifty and quite possibly yellow?" Virgil finished.

"Got it in one!"

"Well, time to go do what we do best. Come on Sprout." Virgil said, jumping to his feet.

Alan nodded and dropped his controllers on the bed, grabbing a handful of pretzels and stuffing them into his mouth as he stood. Gordon started to struggle off the bed, but was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.

"Not you Gords." Scott said firmly. "You're signed off for the time being."

"Scott! Why?"

"Why? Because two days ago you could barely move. There's no way you're fully recovered enough to be of any use out there."

Gordon tried to wriggle free but found he couldn't, not without something hurting. He hid his wince though, he had to convince everyone he was fit enough to go. "Scott! You said it yourself. That the tunnel is barely 20ft, and we all know Four is 11ft wide!"

"It'll be a tight squeeze, that's for sure."

"So who better to control it than me!" The Aquanaut continued. "I'll be fine. I'm perfectly capable of doing it!"

"Gordon." Scott massaged his temple with his free hand. He had hoped his brother would just admit to his weakness, but his stubborn streak was being exceptionally strong today. "This rescue is going to be long and arduous, and you are in no condition to sit in a confined and cramped space for hours on end. You know that, I know that."

"But...!"

Scott let out a drawn out sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. "Ok. Picture me this. We let you come along. We get you into Four and you pootle off down the tunnel. Now, there's only you down there, there's not enough space for two of us and the miners you're rescuing; it's already going to take multiple trips. Halfway in, maybe the first time, maybe the tenth, your back goes into spasm, thanks to you staying in one position too long, and you're in so much pain that you are no longer able to pilot your Bird. So, you're in agony, unable to get yourself out. What do you do now? We can't do much, we have no way of getting you out quickly; the currents are too strong to go down in scuba gear and the surface entrances are blocked, and, while I'll admit that Four has an excellent supply of oxygen, it'll give you, what, 12 hours at most? And even though we're good at what we do, I doubt even we would be able to clear a path and get you out in that time frame. Gordon, look at me. There is one thing in this world that I never, ever want to experience, and that's losing one of you, whether in the line of duty or not. It's already been hard enough this week with John's close call. And while I know that you'd rather be behind the controls in the thick of it, I also know that my heart, not to mention Dad's or anyone else's, would surely break if something went wrong down there, something that was easily avoidable. Now do you see why I'm asking you to stay here?"

Gordon dropped his gaze and nodded, a lump in his throat. He couldn't argue with his eldest brother's, and Field Commander's, logic. He picked at the stitching on the edge of the mattress, fighting back the tears pricking his eyes. He was not going to burst into tears, not now.

"Hey," Scott said softly, gently lifting his chin up. "I know this is hard for you. But don't worry. Four will be in safe hands. I'll be piloting her."

"Wonderful..."

"I know... Think about it, I'm gonna be piloting Four!"

"S'not that bad." Gordon sniffed, not happy at his Bird being insulted as well as not being able to go.

"No! Not that!" Scott let out a small laugh. "Think about it. I'm going to be piloting Four. So who do you think will be piloting One? None other than Mr Jefferson Tracy himself!"

Alan and Virgil groaned in unison in the background as Gordon burst out laughing, his argument forgotten. Not only did Scott have to give up the keys to his ship, so to speak, but he, as well as the other two, would have to deal with their father first hand. As least when he was halfway across the world they could do things their own way, they could switch him off if he got to annoying, but when he was standing right there in the thick of it, he would insist on doing things his way, which while it got the job done and pretty well too, usually also entailed a lot of unnecessary faffing around.

"You know what, while I loathe to admit it, I think you may be right. My back's being a right pig today, and the last thing I would want to do is get stuck in that tunnel. Tell you what, why don't you extend my apologises to Dad, I'll just stay here and keep an eye on John for you all."

Scott laughed too and patted his brother on the shoulder, inwardly congratulating himself at convincing the red-head to stay put. "You do that, I'm sure Dad will understand." He picked up and passed one of the controllers over. "Practise your dismembering instead!"

"It's not practise he needs..." Virgil muttered. "Come on, Dad's going to wonder where we've got to."

"Yeah." Scott agreed. "Knowing him, he's already in One, God so help me..." He stood up and turning to face Gordon one last time. "Brains will be co-ordinating. Give him a yell if you need him."

"Yeah ok, enjoy yourselves. Gordon said. "Don't scratch my Bird Scott, I'll be checking later."

"I'm sure you will. See you later Aquaman!"

Gordon waved and watched the three of them leave the room. As soon as the door swished shut behind them, he sighed and tilted his head backwards, muttering a string of phrases that he knew his father would definitely not approve of. It wasn't fair. It was his Thunderbird, and so he should be the one to be piloting it. But he supposed that Scott did have a point, he didn't really want to get stuck in pain and with a dwindling air supply. Lifting his head, he glared at the paused game flickering on the screen for a second, before grabbing the remote and switching it off with a growl.

Letting himself fall backwards, he landed with a soft flump into the pillow. Staring at the ceiling, he gripped the sheet tightly as a familiar rumble reverberated through the building. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blue streak go past the large window that lined one end of the infirmary. He stayed in that position until another, deeper, rumble started up a few minutes later. As the bulk of green passed through his periphery vision he eased back up into a sitting position and scooted backwards until his back was supported. Grabbing the half-eaten pack of pretzels off the table where Alan had left them, he picked through them, throwing a few into the air and catching them in his mouth.

"Well, John." He said, crunching as he spoke. "Looks like you've got me for company for a bit." He swallowed with a grimace and smacked his lips together. "Yargh, these things are a bit salty. Where's Virge put the cola?"

He looked around him, smiling as he spotted the cola bottle on the floor next to him. Gritting his teeth, he leant over and grabbed it, surprising himself when it didn't hurt as much as he had expected it to, but it was still more difficult than it should have been. Still, at least he was making progress. Straightening back up with a groan, he inspected the contents of the bottle in his hands.

"Oh nice." He said as he swilled the liquid around the quarter-full container. "Drink all of it why don't you Virge. Man, that's gonna come back and haunt you later..." He smiled and twisted off the cap, taking a mouthful of what was left of the fizzy liquid. He settled back, glancing over at the next bed where the blond figure still slept.

"You know, it's about time they got to deal with Dad for a bit. I don't know about you, but both him and Scott flapping around was starting to do my head in. Virge I can cope with, he knows what he's doing most of the time. Still, Dad in the field. It's scary thinking about it." He mock shuddered, laughing at his own joke. He bit into another pretzel. "Ugh. I'm not liking these. You want them instead?" He held out the bag, not expecting an answer. So when, out of the corner of his eye, John's arm seemed to twitch, he took a double take. Surely he was imagining things.

"John? Do that again." He urged, not quite believing what he had just sworn he'd seen. A few tense seconds past with nothing, then suddenly John's arm moved, lifting just a fraction. Scrambling off his bed, not caring how much his back protested, the red-head hobbled as quickly as he could across the space between them, holding tightly to the bed-stead as he leaned over his older brother. "John? Can you hear me?"

He held his breath, letting it out explosively as a two eyelids slowly flickered open and a pair of pale blue eyes fixed blearily on him. "Well, if it isn't the blond bombshell finally deciding to grace us with his presence!"

John swallowed dryly. "Gords..." He managed to croak, his voice hoarse from disuse. His jaw twinged, and a spike of pain went through his rib-cage as Gordon raised the back of the bed so he was sitting up slightly. "Ow..."

"Hurts huh? I'm not surprised. Not after your performance." Gordon pulled himself around to the machine that controlled John's painkillers, inspecting it. "Shall I rectify that for you?"

"M-hmm."

Gordon pressed a button, increasing the flow of morphine into his brother. Normally he wouldn't dare touch anything medical, usually leaving that to Virgil, but after his own experiences after his hydrofoil crash, he knew his way around a morphine pump, and so was confident enough to adjust one for his sibling. "Better?"

John nodded weakly and swallowed again. "...Water..."

"Oh, course. Sorry!" Gordon looked around him. "Hang on, I'll be back in a minute." He turned and make his way towards the store room, leaning against the wall as he went. In the store room he grabbed a cup and popped it under the ice dispenser, pressing a button so ice chips clattered into it. As soon as it was full, he picked it up and made his way back to John's bedside, cursing the fact that he couldn't yet run.

Sliding into the chair by the bed, he fished out an ice chip and placed the cup on the table. "Here we are, open up." John opened his mouth as best he could and Gordon placed the ice on his tongue. "You've got great timing you know."

"Huh?" John grunted around the chip. The cold water slowly melting into his mouth was currently one of the best feelings in the world.

"Yeah, of all the times, you wake up as soon as Dad leaves the island. He's not gonna like that. He's out on what is going to be a long rescue, in Wales of all places, and so it's not as if he can come back either. So, don't think about going downhill again, alright?"

"Again?" John asked, the ice having melted. His throat was feeling a bit better.

"Oh yeah. You gave us _another_ scare, you know!" Gordon smiled as he popped another chip into his brother's mouth. "Ended up getting a fever and hallucinating and thrashing around like something else. From the sounds of it, you thought Five was burning up in the atmosphere and you were trapped aboard. The only way Dad and Scott could get you to calm down was to play along. I missed the excitement though, so you'll have to ask them about the details."

John frowned as he sucked on the ice. He could remember snippets of something happening, but as if it was all a dream, not something that had actually happen. But then a fever would explain why he had thought he was burning up, in a way he had been, just not in the way his mind had latched onto. "Alan?" The last he could remember, his baby brother was still up on the Space Station.

"Oh, Scott brought him back a few hours after you. Currently also out on the Welsh rescue. Everyone is. Brains is co-ordinating upstairs. And before you ask, he didn't crash it. Five is still safely in orbit."

John sighed with relief. He'd known deep down that his Thunderbird was safe, but being told so meant he could truly relax. "They're in Wales?"

"Oh yeah, Wales." Gordon fished out a chip for himself, and crunched down on it. "Mine collapse, miners trapped underground and a small underground river seems to be the only way to get them out. River tunnel maybe 20ft in diameter, so guess which of the Birds is required."

John thought for a moment, his still fuzzy brain not quite up to speed yet. "Four?"

"Yep. And guess who's not allowed to pilot their Thunderbird at the moment. Oh yeah, that's right. Me! So, instead I'm having to leave my baby in the hands of Scott, so help me. Still, he has to leave his in the hands of Dad, so at least he sort of understands."

John smiled. He knew he had heard voices as he slowly made his way back to conscious thought, and now that he thought about it, it hadn't sounded much like an understanding. Not that he was going to let on. Instead he opened his mouth as Gordon placed another bit of ice on his tongue and greedily sucked on it.

"Talking of those two. We should probably let them know." Gordon pointed out. "They'll want to know."

"Mmm..."

"But then again... They are on a long, already difficult mission, we wouldn't want them getting distracted."

John swallowed, his throat now much more soothed. "You could tell Brains."

"Yeah, that's an idea. And get him to tell them once they're almost finished. I'm sure he'd understand our concerns." Gordon shifted and brought his wrist up, pressing the button on his watch to contact the control centre. "Brains. You there?"

The scientists face filled the small screen. "Y-yes, Gordon. What's up?"

"Oh nothing much. Just wanted to let you know that John is finally back with us." He tilted his watch so John could be seen, just like he had done two days ago just after he had pulled his brother from the lake.

"Oh, that is g-good news." Brains smiled, relief evident in his face. "I-I'll contact your father a-and tell right away."

"Wait. Brains. Could you not tell them right now? They are on a difficult rescue after all, and finding out now would only distract them. Could you tell them later, maybe when they're close to finishing instead?"

The scientist thought for a moment. "O-ok Gordon, John. I, um, see your p-point. I-I'll let them know in a few hours."

"Thanks Brains. You are a star!" Gordon grinned as he cut the connection. Turning back to John, he rubbed his hands together in glee. "so, now you're awake, and we've got a few hours of peace, fancy a game of Mortal Kombat? There's no way you can be any worse than Virgil."

"Why not? What better way to celebrate being alive, than mercilessly slaying virtual people!"

"That's the spirit! Just give me a minute, and I'll give you such a thrashing you'll wish you stayed at the bottom of that lake!"

"Bring it on, little brother. Bring. It. On."

* * *

**The Other A/N: Ok, Hands up if you want the story behind how John got his scar! I have ideas in my head and I have the urge to write. Then again, I may just write it anyway, but I would love to know people actually want it. :)**


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